Smile, the worst is yet to come
by JuniperLemon
Summary: Sam has a mysterious illness that has been plaguing him for weeks. Dean's concerned but they don't realise it could be a little more serious. (Major Character Death.)
1. Chapter 1

Sam coughed and the noise echoed throughout the deafening silence of the motel room. Rolling onto his stomach, the hunter coughed against his pillow in a feeble attempt to muffle the loud sound. The dull pain in his chest increased each time a cough wracked through his body. Groaning, the man lifted his head and flicked on his phone to get the time. The bright touchscreen lit the dark room making Sam screw his eyes shut against the onslaught of brightness. He peeped open one of his hazel eyes hesitantly and looked down at the screen. 3:38, Sam was seriously going to punch something if this kept happening. It had been almost two weeks since he'd gotten anything even close to a full night sleep.

Another chesty cough ripped from his throat making the hunter screw his face up in pain. This cough had better give in soon, Sam thought grumpily. There was a noise from the other bed so Sam froze.

"I know you're awake." Dean muttered tiredly as he turned onto his back, "Stop being so loud, man."

Feeling guilty, Sam apologised and turned his cell phone back onto standby before lying back down on his side ensuring he faced away from his weary brother. He knew that the hard hunts had been getting to his brother as well; it wasn't just Sam that was tired.

He muffled another painful cough in his fist and swallowed against an iron taste that rose in his throat. He silently vowed to himself that he would make no more noise for the rest of the night and settled down into the scratchy, over-washed bed sheets. They sat dead and heavy on his chest. He closed his eyes and desperately tried to ignore the mild pain. It had been consistent for the last three weeks so he saw no reason to start complaining now.

It took a while and the sun was shining through the cracks in the thin curtains before Sam eventually managed to drift off into a fitful sleep.

* * *

The sound of a thick mucus laden cough brought Dean out of his relatively peaceful slumber. The loud noise echoed from inside the small tiled bathroom across the room. The hunter peeped open a bright green eye in an attempt to assess the situation.

There was a light pale light which breached the thin material of the curtains. His alarm hadn't gone off so he assumed that it was somewhen before 8am but the dull light made him assume that it was still early. He threw an arm over his eyes and groaned in exasperation.

The painful coughing started up again, reminding the hunter of what had roused him in the first place. It sounded painful and sore making sympathy twinge in Dean's chest.

"Sammy?" He called out. His voice thick and lost from sleep.

There was a moment of more noise from the bathroom making Dean wince. He waited for a response.

"I'm good." The voice rasped through the thin wooden door. It was unconvincing as it shook feebly and was weak.

Dean went to speak again but let it go. If Sam said he was okay then he'd just believe him. Maybe this was just a bad cough or something similar. He pulled the blanket higher over his head to block out both the noise and the light. He just accepted that he'd have to fall back asleep whilst hearing his brother hack into the toilet. It settled on him with grim realism that it was going to be this way for a while longer.

* * *

The Winchester brothers sat opposite each other in the booth of a diner. A large breakfast of eggs, bacon, sausages and toast was spread in front of Dean. The taller man, on the other hand, had a short stack on a small plate in front of him. Dean devoured the food on his plate like a starving man while his brother merely poked at the pancakes.

"You not hungry?" Dean asked around a half chewed sausage. His manners were never his strong suit but he blamed his father for his upbringing.

Sam shook his head but continued to use his fork to dig into the edge of his breakfast.

For the first time, Dean inspected his brother carefully. His hair was limp and greasy, eyes dull and dark shadows haunted the thin skin beneath his hazel eyes. He'd lost a significant amount of weight over the last few weeks but Dean wasn't particularly surprised as the other man had barely eaten a child's portion each meal time. Sam was peering around the room in exhausted disinterest. His eyes wondered but they didn't take anything in.

"Sam?" Dean spoke firmly to catch the man's attention, "Why don't you try a little bit?" He asked carefully.

"Yeah, okay." He slowly fed himself baby pieces of pancake timidly. He hit a large curled up fist against his chest as a cough tickled deep within his chest.

"Are you okay?" Dean pestered more.

"Jus' a cough." His throat was sore and Dean could hear it rasp, "don't worry about it. It'll be gone soon. Sorry." He gave a gentle smile in apology.

Dean was surprised by the younger man's apology. He was the one of them that was sick so the apology seemed slightly unnecessary, "Don't be sorry, bro. We just gotta get you better."

Sam nodded, his mouth too full of pancake to respond and throat to raw to answer. He rested his arm against the table, the long limb seemed heavy and awkward. His jaw moved slowly and lethargically.

The older watched as Sam swallowed down painkillers and winced as the small pills slid down his throat. A crease formed in between Dean's brows at he studied the pained expression on his sibling's features. He decided against mentioning anything though as Sam seemed set that his own health would soon bounce back.


	2. Chapter 2

A week later-

They sat side by side in the midnight black Impala as they cruised along the empty road. Sam kept drifting in and out of sleep as his persistent cough kept waking him with a start. His eyelids were heavy and hazel eyes were struggling to bring things into focus as fatigue plagued him.

Dean was currently much better than his brother. He was sleepy but he'd slept for a solid 12 hours that night as Sam had gotten up and left the room when his coughing was stopping anyone in the motel from falling asleep. The constant tickling pain seemed to increase tenfold when he laid down which really wasn't ideal when you needed your sleep as one slip up on the job could be fatal.

Sam yawned, rubbing at his sensitive red eyes, "We're still visiting Bobby soon, right?" Sam inquired while his eyes followed the curve of the dashboard in front of him.

"Yeah, probably. Why?" Dean's gaze shot over to his brother but he didn't allow it to linger.

"Just think that maybe we need some time to rest... That's all." Sam muttered.

The young man wasn't really the type of person to announce that he was struggling so a request to visit Bobby was as close to an admittance as he'd ever get. Sam obviously knew that he needed some rest but didn't want to slow his brother down.

"That's probably a good idea." Dean didn't point out that he was actually fine but instead, played along to put the taller at ease, "We'll call at the next break."

They were an hour closer to North Dakota when Dean pulled over to feed both his baby and himself. As he leant against the dark, polished paint of the Impala, Sam waved his cell at him to signal that he'd phone Bobby while he was waiting. He watched as the tall man dragged his feet over to the side of the gas station. Sam typed in the numbers easily with speed. Dean wasn't close enough to hear the conversation and was planning on lip reading his brother's lips but Sam turned his back on him to gaze into the distance.

Sam waited as the call connected. His foot tapped impatiently as he looked around. The old hunter must have been in his kitchen as he picked the phone up pretty quickly, "Yeah?" The voice asked gruffly.

Sam shifted awkwardly, it was always uncomfortable asking the older man if they could crash with him even though Bobby would never deny them. He was like the best substitute father they could ever ask for but Sam never wanted to impose on him.

"Hey, Bobby." The young man greeted. His voice sounded a bit different from this recent cold or maybe a flu or something was coming on since it'd be winter soon and he felt like he was getting worse.

"Sam? What's wrong? You sound different?" Bobby asked, swiftly.

"What? Oh, nothing's wrong!" He reassured, "We were just wondering if we could stay with you a few days." He didn't need to talk about his fatigue; Bobby knew the life of a hunter enough to know that barely a single hunt went by where you wouldn't end up exhausted afterwards.

"Of course ya can, ya idjit!" Bobby chuckled openly, "Although, I'm heading outta town for a few days this afternoon so you'd be alone. If that's okay with you guys?" He really didn't mind if they wanted to stay without him there. It's not like they could do much harm to his old rickety home.

"If you don't mind..." Sam replied unsurely. He didn't want to put him out. The tall man fiddled with a lose threat that hung down from his hoodie sleeve.

"Of course not! You know where the spare key is, right?"

Sam confirmed that he did know where the key was before expressing his thanks again and Bobby bid him goodbye then disconnected the call. As he turned around, Dean was coming out of the gas station with his arms laden with so many snacks that he had to push the door with the back of his shoulder.

They made it back to the car at the same time so got in without a word. Dean dumped the snacks, drinks and treats into the middle of the bench between them. Before Sam had a chance to search through them, his elder brother reached down, plucked something from the pile and chucked it onto his lap.

Sam scooped up the small white bottle and read what was inscribed on the label, "What is this?"

Dean watched him from the corner of his eye as the engine started up and they pulled back into the road.

"Just mild sleeping tablets." The elder man shrugged casually before fiddling with the volume on the radio. He turned it down a little; hoping that Sam would take a tablet and fall asleep so the music would need to be quiet.

"Dean," Sam sighed, exasperated, "I don't need sleeping tablets, I'm fine."

"Sure." Dean tapped his brother's knee comfortingly, "Of course."

They lapsed into silence as the impala worked beneath them and Sam's tired eyes scanned the description on the bottle. They seemed pretty harmless but the young man thought back to the pain medication he'd taken an hour or so before.

"They say you shouldn't mix your meds but..." He weighed up the chances of sudden death and they came up slim so he popped open the cap and swallowed down one sleek white pill without water.

He leant against the door and closed his eyes. Thankfully, sleep came relatively quickly and the purring of his brother's baby lulled him off into unconsciousness. His body was shaking slightly with the movement of the car.

Dean shook his head and swallowed. Something must be going on if Sam was willingly taking tablets to help him sleep. He really wasn't the type to rely on anything.

* * *

The sky was still dark and the air felt cold against their skin once they arrived at The Singer Salvage Yard. It was so early in the morning that it could still pass as the dead of night and no lights lit the old house. Dean pulled up outside Bobby's home and peered up at the house.

Sam had been asleep for about eight hours now but he showed no signs of awakening. His head rested against the cool glass with his mouth slightly ajar. He mumbled and muttered in his sleep every few minutes but never woke up.

"Sam?" Dean patted the sleeping man's shoulder to encourage him.

Blinking awake, Sam sat up and peered around in confusion, "Where are we?"

"Bobby's." He opened the door and began to clamber out into the darkness, "Come on!" He called into the vehicle.

Grabbing their bags, Dean led the way into the old house after finding the spare key, hidden in the glove compartment of a near by dismantled car. Sam just seemed to float after him without taking any of it in. The tall man had a blanket hooked around his shoulders, which he'd grabbed from the back seat. He blinked slowly and eyes moved at a snails pace inside his skull.

Since awakening, the pain in his chest had increased. Before it was like an irritating ache but now, it was like someone was stepping on the centre of his chest. He considered that maybe it was time to visit a doctor to see about the pain in his chest and maybe even the persistent cough. Although, he was certain that it was nothing more than a cold and perhaps a mild chest infection.

Dean left Sam perched on the couch as he dumped their bags in the guest room upstairs. Upon returning back down, he studied his brother for a moment; his eyes were boring into the wall as sleep still hadn't left the usually bright and alert male. Concern coiled in Dean's stomach.

"Hey, Sammy!" He greeted, making the younger man jump, "I was gunna cook something for dinner. What d'ya reckon?"

"I think... I think I might pass on food tonight, Dean. I might just go up to bed already. Those sleeping tablets have made me drowsy. I'll just sleep it off." The pain doubled as he coughed, thick and heavy.

Unwillingly, Dean decided to let Sam chose what was best for himself, "Okay, if you're sure."

After confirming, Sam hauled himself up to the guest bedroom that had two single beds. He got into the one under the window, as he'd done since a child, without even getting changed. At that time, it didn't even seem important; clothes are basically pyjamas for daytime, anyway, right?


	3. Chapter 3

The face peering down at him in a state of study shocked Sam, making him jump. It wasn't exactly everyday that you awoke to find someone simply peering at you as though you were dead. His brother pulled back slightly but still scanned his face.

"You were coughing like you wanted to get rid of your throat." Distantly, he muttered his green eyes stared into Sam's skin as though it held the secret to eternal life. Although, Sam considered, if this is what eternal life feels like then I don't want it.

"What're-" He stopped to cough as his voice rasped painfully. He was parched, "How long was I asleep?"

Looking suspicious, Dean grumbled, "12 hours."

"What?! How is that possible?!"

The older shrugged, "I dunno. At one point, I thought you were dead. You went all quiet and I didn't think you were breathing." There was a moment of silence, "But you were." He said as though he had to reassure.

"Good, I'm glad." Sam replied all snarky as he forced himself to his feet. He could still feel the tiredness weighing on his shoulders despite basically sleeping for the last 24 hours.

* * *

It was bright downstairs, making Sam squint against the light. He automatically set a path for the couch but Dean caught him and instead diverted him into the kitchen. Pushing his brother into one of the wooden chairs, Dean began creating some sort of breakfast as he spoke about something but nobody was listening.

Sam, on the other hand, was pushing his palm against his chest to see if it increased the pain or if the pain was too internal to be affected by the pressure. Upon testing, he discovered that it did become more painful but only by a fraction. Not enough to really make a sound judgement on.

"Sam?" The voice pulled him from his thoughts.

He jumped, quickly moving his hand from his chest and whipping his head around to find who had addressed him. Dean stood with a puzzled expression upon his features. A frying pan with eggs inside was held above the cooker as the elder stared with a frown.

"You okay?" Concern colored the shorter man's tone.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Sam waved his concern off with a smile.

"If you're sure..." Dean muttered. He got no reply so simply served up the eggs and dumped them on a plate in front of Sam.

"Here, you must be starving."

"Thanks, De." A smile pulled at his mouth as he poked at the eggs slightly.

Rolling his eyes, Dean grabbed some ketchup from the fridge and deposited on the table beside Sam's plate with a knowing smile. The only way you could make Sam eat practically anything is to slather it in tomato ketchup. The man loved the stuff despite always complaining about its high sugar and salt content.

Pouring some on the side of his plate, Sam happily dunked his egg whites into the red before doing the same with the sunny yoke.

After his late breakfast, Sam retired to the couch where he spent the rest of the day watching daytime TV with his chin rested on his raised knees. Meanwhile, Dean worked on cars out the back to occupy his attention.

* * *

It was a few days and a bit later when Bobby Singer was creeping back into his own home at 3am. He crept to avoid waking the boys since he knew they were still taking shelter in his house and everyone knew that an exhausted Winchester was a miserable Winchester.

With gentle footsteps, he made his way into the kitchen. The old man jumped upon making out a shape on the couch through the darkness. It took him a minute to identify the shape as Sam's giant frame curled up on the too small sofa with his arms wrapped around his torso. A bark of a cough broke from the large man's throat. It was loud enough to echo through the house. Despite this, Sam slept through the noise his own body was creating.

Bobby frowned. What was Sam doing down here when Bobby had always ensured that there were two single beds in the guest room for the boys. Approaching the man silently, Bobby shook his shoulder to wake him.

"Hmm?!" Sam muttered as he was ripped into reality.

"Sorry, son. What are you doing down here?" Concern was in his tone. He hope that they hadn't fallen out again. That happened surprisingly often.

"My coughing kept waking Dean so I came down here." His voice was raspy and painful.

"What's wrong with you? Got a cold?"

"Something like that, yeah." Sam mumbled as he began to settle back down into his sleeping position. Bobby took this as a signal to leave so he started up the stairs to his bed.

* * *

It was nearly lunchtime when Bobby pulled himself from the warm embrace of his bed and ventured down stairs. He was surprised to find a tense looking Dean Winchester staring at his brother from across the room. The younger man was still sound a sleep.

"Bobby?" Dean said in confusion, "I didn't even realise that you were back."

"I came back last night." He whispered in return, careful not to wake the sleeping man.

"You don't have to whisper, "Dean replied normally, "He could sleep through a tornado."

The old hunter frowned at the tall man, cramped onto his small couch, "That's not like Sam." All hunters had to learn to be light sleepers. If they didn't adapt to it then they could die so heavy sleepers rarely lasted long in their business.

"It's not like Sam used to be," Dean corrected, "Recently, he's been sleeping most of the day and you actually have to set out to wake him up to bring him around." He scratched his chin where stubble had grown over the last week or so.

"He's ill?" He remembered the conversation with the young man last night.

"I think so... But in the last few days he's been saying he's fine whenever I ask."

They both studied Sam for a while. His chest rose and fell but only by a little bit as it became to painful to allow his lungs to expand the whole way. As a result, his breathing was shallow, quick and totally abnormal. A gentle wheeze permeated the space. His head was turned away from them but they could still see how his lips moved slightly every now and again as though he was talking in his dreams.

Dean shrugged before starting towards the kitchen, "He's been like it for about a month but it wasn't this bad to start with."

Following the man, Bobby also returned to the kitchen, where he sat at the table with his fingers interlocked beneath his chin, "But he's not in pain?"

"He took some painkillers a few times before we came but I have seen him take any recently... He hasn't mentioned anything either."

"Perhaps it's just a tough cold then... Or virus." Neither were sure but they both nodded in agreement anyway.

There was silence as they both lounged around the kitchen, reading newspapers or catching up on each other's lives. Bobby told him all about his latest case and in return, Dean told him about a particularly interesting spirit they dealt with in Boston.

It was almost one o'clock when Dean's stomach rumbled, reminding them that it was time for lunch. They then remembered Sam slumbering on the sofa.

"Go and wake the beast." Bobby commanded as he began to pull bread out ready for sandwiches.

"Wish me luck. The sleeping giant doesn't cope will with waking up." He joked and strode off into the living room.

A few minutes later, Bobby was placing the sandwiches upon the table when the two Winchester brothers returned. Sam was leading the way but he looked like death warmed over. Dark circles stained the thin skin under his eyes as his cheeks had grown increasingly hollow. It had been hard to notice such details in the pitch black of the night but now they stood out. Dean hovered behind him with worry etched into his features. The hunter rarely showed such a strong emotion on his face.

"Oh, Bobby?!" Sam's eyebrows rose, "When did you get back?" He was clearly surprised to see the old man. Even his scratchy voice could convey that much.

"Last night. We spoke." Bobby tried to jog his memory. The frown on Sam's face only grew, "You probably won't remember. You were half asleep." He laughed but it was clearly empty. He simply wanted to put Sam's mind at ease. If the boy was ill, there would be no need to worry him.

Sam's weary face broke into a smile that could only be described as hard worn. It looked tired yet he fought to keep it there to reassure everyone else.

Their sandwiches weren't particularly delicious yet Sam made a large effort to thank Bobby and praise the food that he'd created. He also seemed to put a lot of effort into staying animated for the period that they were all conversing. Dean's green eyes were trained to the youngest gathered at the table and his gaze only strayed a handful of times.; Bobby counted.

Bobby was also watching Sam but he was much more subtle about it, choosing to study him whenever the own man's gaze was thrown elsewhere in the room; by choice or distraction.


	4. Chapter 4

Bobby was reading over some papers in his study when Sam burst in. The swift action caused the homeowner to jump but he restrained from berating the man that was standing in the doorway with an apologetic smile. Dean was out in the yard somewhere playing with car parts but Bobby had assumed that Sam had been loitering around him.

"I was going to pop into town to get some groceries," Sam said with a smile, "We've been eating you out of house and home. Is there anything that you want?"

He scratched his whiskers and swallowed, thinking, "Have you asked Dean about this trip?"

Sam seemed confused for a moment but quickly recovered and answered, "Yes, of course."

"What did he say?"

"He say that I can go..." This was beginning to annoy him, not that he let it show. Recently, they had both been treating him like a child and Sam had just about had enough of it. He could drive to the nearest Goddamned town without dying, for christ's sake.

"Just pick me up some milk then." Sam rolled his eyes at the ordinary request. As if he wasn't going to pick up milk anyway?

"Sure thing." He tapped the doorframe of the study as he left.

Within minutes, Bobby could hear the engine of the Impala grumbling to life from out the front of the old house. He rolled his eyes at Sam and how his behaviour seemed to switch so easily. Dismissing any further thought, he returned to his papers to continue reading.

* * *

It was over an hour later when Bobby stretched and listened as almost all of his joints seemed to click at once. He chuckled at his own body and the treacherous curse of ageing.

The old man wandered into the kitchen where he grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and leant against the back door casually. He could see Dean in the distance with his head under the hood of an old junker. Searching for parts, Bobby assumed.

At his leisurely pace, it took the hunter a few minutes to make his way out to the other man. The younger had headphones in and was clearly listening to one of his rock tracks as suggested by the way he tapped his fingers against the old metal and bobbed his head to the music. Tapping his shoulder caused the young man to jump.

"Ergh! Oh, Bobby." He took a moment to steady his breathing, "Careful man, you could give someone a heart attack." Looking over at the house, Dean asked in curiosity, "Where's Sam?"

A crease formed in Bobby's brow, his lips parted as he thought over what he was about to say, "He went into town, you know that... Right?"

"You let him go into town alone?!" Dean cried, appalled.

Raising his hands in a surrendering gesture, Bobby argued, "He said that he'd asked you!"

"We're talking about Sam! Of course he didn't ask me!" Sam's stubborn independence always seemed to get in the way at the worst times, "Come on, get your truck. We'll have to go and find him."

They couldn't just let Sam drive around South Dakota in the state he was in. That would be practically suicide for the overtired, sick young man. They raced to the truck and set off in the direction Sam took an hour earlier.

* * *

~~ An Hour Earlier ~~

"So, Mr MacHoven, what are your symptoms?" The doctor leant forward as she flicked her long hair over his shoulder. Normally, Sam would be all over her; a smart, beautiful woman, what's not to love? But today, he really wasn't feeling himself. Flirting wasn't in the picture.

"A constant cough, a heavy pressure on my chest, I've been constantly tired and this morning, I couldn't keep my food down." He admitted grimly.

She straightened in her chair. A professional attitude seemed to fall over her.

"Have you been having headaches and have you been eating regularly?" She asked as she rapidly typed into the keyboard.

He seemed shocked that she knew, "Occasionally but they've been mild so I tend to just ignore them till they pass. I eat when I'm hungry but that's not been so much since I've felt ill."

She turned to him on her spiny office chair, "Mr MacHoven, I'd just like to run a few tests before I set a diagnosis. When can we book you in for a blood test?"

He swallowed, it sounded serious if they wanted to do tests, "It might sound odd but do you have any free space in the next thirty minutes?"

She frowned but clicked into the data base, "Maybe I can get sister Jebeoh to fit you in before Mrs Frederick..." She played with the idea before coming up with a firm decision, "We will try and get you in for twenty minutes time, is that okay?"

"That's fantastic!" He smiled.


	5. Chapter 5

The person that was supposed to be before him cancelled their appointment last minute so Sam was in with the nurse within minutes of being seated back in the waiting room. It was quick, easy and he was driving towards the nearest Walmart within mere minutes. He'd received strict instructions to phone the surgery in three days time to collect the results.

He trashed the cotton wool that they stuck to his arm in the can on his way into the store. He had to stop and catch his breath once he'd picked up the cart but he pegged that to having the blood taken so recently.

He was halfway through the store with his cart half full when he heard feet pounding the polished floor. Hunter instincts kicking in, he spun around to face the danger. That was when Dean ran into him as the floor didn't offer enough friction to stop him.

"Dean?" He questioned. Sam was glad that he chose to wear a long sleeved shirt this morning, "What are you doing here?" He smiled lightly.

"I was gunna ask the same thing!" It was then that Bobby caught up, panting.

Sam continued to peruse the aisles and check out the produce for sale, "I'm stocking up Bobby's house since you ate it all. But that still doesn't explain why you're stood here now."

Dean sighed, "You're ill, Sammy. Anything could have happened."

Sam put on a reassuring smile and patted his brother's shoulder, "I'm not that ill, Dean. I can still do stuff." He mumbled a few moments later, "I'm determined that it's just a chest infection."

Dean nodded but didn't seem that much reassured. Bobby looked unconvinced but it would explain the symptoms. Sam simply continued around the store like usual, ignoring the men. The other hunters followed after him like lost sheep... Or more like scolded children.

* * *

"Would you guys start packing this away?" Sam inquired as he dumped a few bags onto the kitchen. Upon gaining curious looks from the other two guys, he added, "I just got something I need to do."

They waved him off with a dismissive sentence; it really didn't take all of them to put away the groceries. Besides, Sam had that chest infection so he needed to rest.

The saying goes that many hands make light work and it must be true seeing how they had replenished Bobby's kitchen within a matter of mere minutes. They agreed on a job well done before deciding that they'd continue their previous tasks before converging together again in a few hours to prepare dinner.

They separated without another thought to the young man suffering upstairs.

* * *

Sam blinked awake. The hunter had no way to tell if time had passed. He couldn't have been knocked out for long though as nobody had discovered his limp body strewn across the guest room floor. Nobody had heard the thump as he went down like a felled tree as he'd gotten caught on Dean's bed, slowing his decent.

His shoulder ached where he'd crashed into the solid floorboards and he had a headache thundering at the base of his skull. Telling himself to man up, he pulled himself onto his bed, not that he'd been sleeping there much recently, and allowed himself to be pulled back under.

Oh well, he really couldn't complain especially when there were people being tortured out there and people actually dying.

* * *

Wiping his grease covered hands down the denim of his jeans, Dean pushed the door open with his shoulder to prevent making the homeowner grouchy due to more stains. The kitchen was empty but he could hear Bobby's heavy boots coming towards him.

"Where's Sammy?" Dean asked suddenly.

A line formed in the old man's brow, "Haven't seen him since... After the store."

Without waiting for more from Bobby, the younger man rocketed up the stairs, taking them two at a time. The wooden door slammed against the wall as he busted in, effectively shocking Sam into alertness. His red eyes shot around in search of the danger.

"You're sleeping?!" He cried in relief.

"Mmm," He murmured, "It might just be a chest infection but it really takes a lot of energy to do anything."

Looking unconvinced, Dean replied while knocking his brother's foot, which stuck out the end of the bed, "Right, sport. Well, you've gotta get up since we're doing food."

"Sure," He mumbled tiredly.

* * *

It was four days later when Sam's cellphone rang, making all three men jump. It sent Sam into a coughing fit before he could actually answer the device.

"Hello?" He asked since he didn't recognize the number on the screen.

"Hi there. Is this Mr MacHoven?" Remembering the false name he gave, Sam confirmed that this was him.

The youngest hunter stood and walked out onto the porch in the hopes that nobody would be able to hear the conversation. The two other men had been monitoring him heavily recently which meant hiding the severity of his condition was growing near impossible.

"This is the receptionist from the Sioux Falls Clinic you visited last week. I have a message from your doctor: she asked if you could come into the clinic as soon as you can."

He dropped his voice, just in case either of the other men were eavesdropping, "Is there any spaces for tomorrow?"

"We've made a space at 3, is that okay?"

Sam agreed and hung up before making his way back into the lounge where the two men where looking up at him in concern. It was clearly they'd strained to hear every word.

"It was the doctor." He answered the question that he knew they were thinking.

"Doctor?" They both cried.

"I've been trying to get an appointment over the last few days to get some antibiotics for my lungs." He lied, "They have an opening tomorrow at 3, could one of you give me a lift up there?"

He no longer trusted himself behind the wheel of a car since he'd passed out twice more since the first time. It would be reckless to try and go alone. Not that Bobby or Dean would allow that anyway.

* * *

"Sam, we will be honest with you, we are very confused. You blood came back almost completely clear. There were a few irregularities but nothing that would effect you in this way. We think it might either be influenza or Chronic Fatigue Syndrome."

"I know the influenza virus but what's the other one?"

"Chronic fatigue syndrome is a medical condition of unknown cause, with fever, aching, and prolonged tiredness and depression, typically occurring after a viral infection."

Sam looked confused, "But I haven't had a viral infection. And I... I passed out... Several times."

"And that's new since we last spoke?" She typed into the computer. Sam confirmed it, "That's bizarre. You have a handful of symptoms that aren't usually associated with chronic fatigue syndrome which makes me think that it's something more. Have you had anything else?"

"My fingers tingle sometimes but not enough for me to worry."

"Sam, when you're so ill, every symptom is crucial!" She scolded.

"So ill?" He repeated, alarmed by her tone.

She pursed her red lips before turning and leaning towards him, "Sam, if I'm being completely honest, we are not sure what is wrong with you... You don't really fit into any category. We are trying our best but..." She sighed.

Blinking, Sam accepted what she was saying as fact, "Okay but what can we do?" Using his hand he covered his mouth as a heavy and painful cough rocked though his chest. He felt something rise in his throat but he swallowed it down.

"We are going to put you on antibiotics for a little while." She winced in sympathy. Knowing that the experts were at a loss really sucked and she knew that, "And we are going to be working in close partnership with the hospital."

Sam nodded, resigned with not knowing.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note~**_

 _ **I just want to apologise for the spazmodic updates but exam period is starting in the next few weeks for me and its chaos! I'm going to be trying my best to keep updates weekly x**_


	6. Chapter 6

The heat in the car was becoming unbearable despite the fact that the windows were wound completely down. The lack of breeze was driving both men in the car practically insane but they daren't move, just in case Sam came out the doctors to see them gone.

"This is taking longer than expected." Dean mumbled as he tapped his finger tips against the hot metal of the impala from where his arm was stretched out of the vehicles window.

Bobby turned his head to look at Dean. He'd been glancing out the window for the last half an hour, "Do... Do you think he's alright in there?"

Dean huffed a breath, "If anywhere, that's where he is the most 'alright'."

Bobby silently accepted that statement. It was true; if anything would happen to Sam then that was the best place for him to be. He was worried about Sam and anyone else in their right mind would be too. The tall Winchester had clearly deteriorated over that last few weeks making his life be put completely on hold.

Hunting for the boys had become almost nonexistent aside from occasionally helping out Bobby with research. They'd not left Sioux Falls since they'd arrived almost two weeks before. That in itself was bizarre for a hunter.

* * *

"What did the doctor say?" Both men jumped to ask when Sam collapsed into the back seat of the Impala. He legs were squished up but he insisted that Bobby got the front seat.

"I gotta pick up a prescription." Sam answered with a gentle smile. He knew the two men were worrying and didn't want to make it worse. "The doctor thinks this might help."

"Thinks?" Dean recoiled. Doctors were supposed to be clever and knowledgeable. Shouldn't they know?

Sam merely hummed in confirmation before he leant back against the upholstery and gazed out of the window. He rested his head up on the cool glass of the car as he watched the scenery fly passed. Dean and Bobby had then spoke amongst themselves as they drove to somewhere they could gets Sam's medicine. It only took a few minutes and they were there quicker than expected.

"Hey, Sam! We're-" His sentence died out as he turned in his seat to see Sam, mouth open and eyes closed, asleep in the back seat.

The two older hunter's huffed a quiet laugh at Sam's inability to remain conscious. It was a way to burn nervous energy anyways. Pulling the doctor's prescription from the seat beside the sleeping Giant, Dean rolled his eyes and turned to Bobby.

"You coming?"

The old man shook his head, "I'll stay and watch your brother." The concern showed in the creases in his forehead, just visible under his scruffy cap.

Dean understood so nodded and just made his way towards the large pharmacy.

* * *

The phone was ringing, that's what roused the young hunter from his slumber. In the other bed, Sam was still sleeping like a rock. The tall man barely even stirred as Dean threw off the blanket and padded downstairs. The heavy sleeping drugs were finally doing their job.

The floor was almost scolding his bare soles as the cold seeped through the wooden floorboards. The hunter dismissed the discomfort in favour of sneaking a long corridor until he was in the doorway of the kitchen.

He was surprised to find Bobby, already stood by the phones, reaching to pluck one from its cradle. It was the hunter's own home phone, reassuring that it wasn't an FIB call; acting at this time of night would be beyond impossible.

"Singer Salvage." Weariness seeped into the old man's tone. His back automatically straightened as the other person spoke, "What do you mean 'Causin' trouble'?" The frown didn't have to been seen know it was marking the hunter's brow.

"Vampires? You sure?" He ran a hand over his weary face. "I don't know if I can help... Yes, I'm aware that it's my Goddamn job, boy! But I've got stuff on my hands... Yes, fine. I'll let you know if I change my mind." He hung the phone up with a world battered sigh.

"Bobby?" Dean asked from where he was leaning on the frame. The other hunter jumped but turned around to face the younger.

"Dean? What'cha doing up?" He muddled through the sentence.

He gestured to where the line of phones decorated the wall, "I heard the ringing... You've got a case?" The idea of getting out there again set a sparkle in Dean's green eyes. It had been weeks since he'd last been in a hunt. With Sam's deteriorating health, they had to stay out for a while which wasn't natural for the older Winchester.

"We can't go." Bobby reminded him, "We gotta care for Sam." Deep inside his mind, he was also desperate to get out again. Get working another job. Perhaps he could leave Dean to help Sam and just go and sort these blasted vampires out himself. It's not like he really needed Dean to help him.

There was a brief period of silence as both men thought.

"I know what you're thinking and you're not doing a whole vampire nest without me helping out!" The young man folded his arms. Unfortunately for Bobby, Dean was known for his stubbornness and he was about to prove it.

* * *

An hour and a half later, the two men were still at a disagreement over the situation. They'd migrated to the study and were glaring at each other cross armed as they fought.

"You're not coming, Dean. That's final."

The younger man huffed a laugh, "Well, I'm not letting you go alone to a goddamnned vampire nest!"

"You have to stay and care for your brother!" Bobby sighed. After so long, it was beginning to seem impossible that Dean would just do as he was told. It would be irresponsible for him to go alone but he could meet up with other hunters once he got there.

"How far is it?" Sam's fragile voice contrasted the heat from the other hunters. He stood, an arm supporting himself on the doorframe.

"It's up to Billings, Montana." Bobby answered, cautiously.

"About 9 hours drive..." The healthiest hunter added.

"When you leaving then?" Sam asked as he slowly made his way through the study and managed to sit down. He tried not to groan in relief.

There was a huff of laughed, "We're not leaving you, Sammy." Dean almost seemed offended by the thought. His brother needed him. Family became before everything else.

Sam wanted to roll his eyes but knew giving sass wouldn't exactly help the situation. The two other hunters had been going stir-crazy cooped up in one place for so long especially when it's natural for them to yearn to travel. He sighed and leant back against the chair.

"Why not? You'd be gone for like two days and I'm not incapable of caring for myself. I may be a little sick but if I don't go out on my own or anything then it'll be fine." He fought to convince them, "I have a cell, I have the doctor's number as well as yours!"

The two older hunters shared a glance of silent consulting. They really were looking for the positives as giving up the role of babysitter for a few days would be exactly what they needed.

Sam smiled encouragingly, ignoring the thumping developing in the back of his skull, like little demons throwing a rave. He'd be fine. What could even go wrong?

* * *

"Maybe I should check on him?" Dean worried as his fingers ghosted over his cell. His mans had barely left his sick brother since they'd waved goodbye this morning. A few months into Sam's mystery condition and nothing seemed to be getting better, only worse.

Bobby didn't sigh but it was clearly on the tip of his tongue, "Dean, you texted him like half an hour ago. Let the poor boy rest."

Taking Bobby's advice on board, Dean slipped his cell back into his pocket and refocused on the empty road ahead. They still had another three hours to go but Dean was already considering whether this was a mistake.


	7. Chapter 7

The bags were heavy on Dean's shoulders but he dragged them out of the Impala as Bobby marched off to the front office to book them a room in this relatively quiet side of town. There shouldn't be any problems with finding a room here, it was dead.

"Room 15," Bobby led the way towards the room with their key dangling from his fingers. The brown door took a bit of a push but it eventually did grant them access to the damp accommodation. Dean dragged their bags in after the old man.

"Impeccable, as always." The young man huffs while throwing the duffle bags onto the beds.

"It's only a couple of nights,"Bobby reminded him, "Not long and I know, for a fact, that you've stayed in worse. Remember that one with the yellow wallpaper?"

Dean chuckled and collapsed onto the bed, "That sucked..." The topic reminded him of his baby brother. Sam had been furious when they'd been holed up in that room for a few days, "Maybe I'll ring him."

It was nearly ten in the night and both men knew that Sam, in his current condition, was probably already sleep. The boy needed his rest to build up his strength anyway. Maybe these few days would benefit him too.

Dean rang anyway but didn't get a response. They put that down due to Sam's strange sleeping hours these days.

* * *

"Bobby? Dean?" Sam called, his voice straining against the pain. An arm wrapped over his stomach he staggered into the kitchen before calling again, "Dean?! Bobby?!"

He had to stop, he couldn't fight the pain for much longer. His right arm, not curled around his stomach, leant out to take his weight against the countertop. A scowl pulled at his features as his weary eyes fell on the antibiotics lying on the side by a few pots. They'd been useless.

"Bobby?! Dean?! Dean?!" He doubled over as a stabbing like sensation ripped through his stomach.

He fell to the floor, the hard tiles bruising his knees and arms. He heaved and faded in and out of consciousness as stomach bile splattered into the floor.

"Dean. Please." He whimpered. He shook and fell, arms no longer strong enough to support himself. He didn't notice when the sick began soaking into his hair or began sticking to his face. The pain pulled him towards the darkness which Sam was more than willing to embrace.

"Dean." He breathed.

The pain engulfed him.

* * *

"There's a serious problem." Dean, face like stone, spoke immediately when Bobby returned from the coffee run.

The young hunter had been asleep when Bobby left but apparently, a lot had happened in the last 20 minutes. He placed the coffees into the small table near the door.

"What's happened?" Thoughts immediately turned to Sam.

"He's not answering his phone again." He gripped the cell so tight that his knuckles faded white, "I haven't heard from him since 5pm yesterday."

Assessing the situation, Bobby pulled out his own phone and rapidly dialled a familiar number. Dean watched.

"Sheriff Mills? Yeah, it's Bobby. Could you do me a favor?" There was a second as the police woman replied, "I need you to call an ambulance to the salvage yard but they'll have to break into the house. You can go too." The questions started and Bobby listened with more patience than Dean would have, "Sam's seriously ill and he's not been answering calls or texts from yesterday. We're worried he's collapsed or unconscious...Thank you for this. I really owe you."

* * *

"Sam?" Underwater. In a bubble. Distant. The voice echoed.

The voice was panicked but gentle. Sam tried to follow it but struggled to break the darkness that he was entangled with. He felt like a fly in a web; the more he fought, the lower he sank. Sam tried to speak but even shallow breathing was laborious.

He felt very warm hands on his skin or perhaps he was just freezing. They fell to his neck before racking his sticky hair from his forehead. The owner didn't seem phased by the sick that was stuck to the strands. Maybe it was a reaper, come to take him and move his soul along. That might be nice.

"Sam."

* * *

Sheriff Mills kept her warm hands entwined with Sam's freezing bear-paws. Her fingers rubbed against the rough skin in, at least she hoped to be, a comforting manner. Sam was a good guy. He sacrificed his life to ensure the safety of everyone else. He could never deserve this. She chewed the inside of her cheek as her eyes were glued to the minor rises and falls in the man's chest. At least he was breathing.

He looked oversized in the hospital bed. His great frame along the whole length of the bed.

It'd already been several hours but even if Dean broke the speed limit it'd still take them at least five hours to get back to Sioux Falls. That's without counting having to find the room in the maze of a hospital. She sighed, if anything were to happen, she didn't want Sam to die alone.

He was seriously sick, that much was clear, but either the doctors were choosing not to communicate with her or they didn't have a clue what was wrong with the man. She hoped it wasn't the latter; at least he'd have hope.

"Sam?" She asked gently again.

Every now and again Jody had been encouraging Sam to come back to consciousness. She'd speak to him or gently shake his shoulder. The doctors wanted to know what had happened and why he was left collapsed to the floor for an unknown number of hours. She was also determined to discover why Bobby and Dean had left him to fend for himself when he was in such a condition. Sheriff Mills might not know everything about the hunting community but surely there would be someone to take over and allow the boys to act as nurse for poor Sam.

There was no sign of response from the hunter and he seemed more than happy to sleep for now. Jody sighed and leant back into the plastic chair, hand still holding Sam's.

"Come on, Sam. Don't make me kick your ass." She teased lightly but there was still no response.


	8. Chapter 8

One week later-

Dean scrubbed at the whiskers covering his jaw. He'd not found the time to shave despite the nurses' insistence as he didn't want to miss Sammy waking up. It seemed almost pointless now as he sat outside Sam's room waiting for the crash team to rescue his brother. He could feel his consistently sanguine attitude dying out.

Sam's heart was failing. After over a week of being in a coma, his body began to gave in to, the seemingly inevitable, death. His brother's battle was coming to an end.

Dean bit his lip to stop it quivering as he battled back the sobs. Steady breaths through the nose fought to keep the tears from trailing down his cheeks. His chest was aching and tight. Swallowing, his gaze bore into the speckled floor, unwilling to make eye contact with anyone else in the corridor, especially Bobby and Jody. They watched him with concerned eyes.

The door squeaked as it opened, Dean stood up as soon as he heard it. A weary looking woman stepped out from the room and instantly knew she'd have to speak to Dean from the way his verdant eyes were pleading with her. Her heart sank.

"I'm so sorry." She murmured, "He's gone." Pity filled her features.

Dean couldn't breathe in the maelstrom of emotion, "You're wrong." He began to push past her to get into the room. Bobby grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back.

"Sam?! Sam?!" He cried, tears cascading down his face, "Sammy, please! No, Sammy."

The hunter fell to the ground as his legs gave way from beneath him. His body shook as sobs rocked him. He couldn't see, tears blinded him. Despite being on the cold floor, Dean kept pulling himself forwards slightly.

He felt hands on him as Bobby tried to pull him up and move him away from the door.

"No," He stood and pushed on to the door, "I need to see him." Determination set his brow.

He pushed the door open forcefully due to the adrenaline and marched towards his still baby brother, ignoring everyone else in the room. His hands went to Sam's hair, soothing him gently. He hushed him as though he was comforting the empty body.

"Here, Sammy. I'm here." He whispered, "I never should have left you. I'm sorry."

He tried to rock him gently, like a mother to their child. Green eyes scanned the pale face, committing it further into his memory; every line and new wrinkle. He closed his eyes after a while and rested his head against his brother's forehead.

It was a long time before Bobby managed to part them so the medical staff could take Sam away. Dean sobbed when the body was pulled from his fingers. He held on for as long as he could manage.

"Bobby." He gasped, falling into the old man desperately. His heart being pulled apart. "I can't bring him back." He gasped, "It's all my fault."

The old hunter spoke, probably reassuring him and comforting him, Soothing his pain but Dean didn't hear a single word the man uttered. There was no Sam and there was only nothing.

* * *

The impala was quiet aside from the deep grumble from the engine. Dean's eyes stared ahead at the dark Tarmac emptily. He couldn't bring himself to play music or hum to himself. He'd promised Bobby when he left his house last week that he'd call regularly but he didn't know what to say; no words would make this better. They were meaningless.

He thought about Sam.

Dean knew his brother was gone for good. Sam died from medical causes and not anything supernatural so he couldn't exactly strike up a deal. That doesn't mean he won't try and hunt down the cause before it kills other people. He wasn't going to allow that. This unknown disease had dragged Sammy to the grave and the anger inside of Dean demanded revenge.

Dean drove on silently and he knew this would be the rest of his life.

* * *

 ** _This is the end! Thank you to everyone who has favourited or commented! I hope you enjoyed it and please check out my other stories!_**


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